Before I die, I want
to do this one tiny thing—Before
I never again have the chance
to dream—Before
it’s over. Before this struggle ends—Before
it stops,
the carousel of life
with its horses and noises
and peoples and voices
and dirt deep in pores
and ashes scattered offshore—Before
I know conclusion—before I don’t.
Before blinking into a nothing sky
I’d like
this meager light of mine,
the faintest thing in that sleepless solitary night,
to burn completely and fully.
Maybe like this, the lonely
will have somewhere to rest their eyes,
and the broken
will have somewhere to hang their suffering.